Cheese Cake
by abandon.me297
Summary: Random one shots. More explanation in the first chapter... Crack, OOC, Yaoi warning.
1. Dudes With Bad Grammar

**Okay, to clear some things up here... this is a series... some are based off of things that happened to me or others while playing Left 4 Dead, some are just made up. This is one that I made up. **

**Anyways, please enjoy.**

**---xxxCHEESE CAKExxx---**

"Your mom," the Smoker said.

"No, _your_ mom," the Hunter said, crossing his arms matter-of-factly.

"No, _your_ mom," the Smoker said with more emphasis.

"No, _my_ mom," the Jockey joined.

The Hunter and the Smoker directed their annoyed attention to the Jockey who had suddenly decided it would be okay to join their conversation.

"Dude…" the Smoker said quietly.

"What?" the Jockey asked.

"Dude…" the Hunter repeated for the Smoker.

"Dude what?" the Jockey asked.

"DU-DE!" the Smoker said more clearly.

"What!?" the Jockey asked, losing his patience.

"Dude, calm down. We're just saying dude, dude. Unless you're a dudette, then, dude, it's not cool anymore," the Smoker explained.

"Dude…" the Hunter added for the Smoker.

"You guys are retarded."

"How so?" the Hunter asked with an added molecule.

"Where'd you get that molecule?" the Jockey asked.

The Hunter took the single lens off his eye and looked at it. "I don't know… just answer my question!"

"Well, you guys are just retarded, what's the point of saying dude like, fifty times in one sentence?"

"I think you are over-exaggerating," the Smoker said like her were the smart one and the Jockey were being stupid.

"Duuuude…" the Hunter said in a trance.

"It's not my fault you isn't getting' none a' this," the Smoker said, running his hands down his ribs.

"What?" the Jockey asked with narrowed eyes and a confused frown.

"Technically, it is your fault…" the Hunter said thoughtfully.

"We're getting off topic here!"

"By the way, Smoker, your grammar amazes me," the Hunter added.

"Thanks, dude," the Smoker said, giving the Hunter an appreciative pat on the back.

The Jockey just stared, narrow eyed and jaw dropped.

"We're going steady," the Hunter said quickly.

The Jockey closed his eyes without closing his mouth. "I'm just going to go to sleep, wake up, and pretend this was all a dream…"

With that, the Jockey walked off. The Hunter smiled and looked up at the Smoker. "Now, where was we?"

"Oh, and it's _my_ grammar that amazes you?" the Smoker asked.

"Indeed," the hunter said, nodding slowly in thought,

**---xxxxx---**

**Random one shots, don't ya just love 'em? **


	2. Ring Around The Rosey

**This one is based off an event that happened to my sister, boyfriend, and I in Swamp Fever in Left 4 Dead 2. I was the Charger, my boyfriend was the Spitter and my sister was the Smoker. Everything the infected say are what the players said during the game. The Survivors' dialog is made up.**

**Please enjoi**

**---xxxCHEESE CAKExxx---**

"Hurry up and leave the safe house you damn survivors," the Smoker said impatiently, crouching behind a rock.

Just as the words fell out of the Smoker's mouth, the door to the safe room opened and the survivors came out, trudging through the muddy swamp water that surrounded the room.

"Okay, I'm going in," the Charger announced in a whisper as he came out of hiding.

"Charger!" Coach snapped in a burly voice.

He huffed deep and mammoth like breaths as he finished his sentence, his prowling eyes on a sharp look out for the Charger.

"Snap…" the Smoker said, unsatisfied with the Charger's dilema.

There was a low, in-human shriek as the Charger rammed himself at the four survivor. They instantly spilt up and Coach started screaming as he took fire on the Charger.

"Snap…" the Smoker repeated as he watched the action happen from behind the safety of his boulder.

The Charger cut through the water and completely missed the survivors, making the Smoker smile in amusement. Hearing a loud _thud_ as the Charger ran into a tree made the Smoker snigger quietly. The Charger stumbled and turned around.

"I don't wanna die! I don't wanna die!" he yelled as he circled a tree.

The survivors lowered their guns and looked at the bawling Charger in disbelief.

"Is… he running around a tree crying?" Nick asked dumbly.

"This is jus' humiliatin'…" Ellis said.

As the Charger rounded the back of the tree he stopped circling and crouched down, sniffling and whimpering. The Smoker laughed cruelly at the Charger, watching contently from his moldy rock.

Coach went around the tree to search for the Charger, the Charger, on instinct, yelled in surprise and fear as he charged at the survivor, capturing him and taking him wherever he was going, but was gunned down before he even had a chance to stop and smash him once into the ground.

Coach got back up to his feet and brushed himself off, laughing hysterically at the little display the Charger had put on for them.

"That just made my day…"

"Ha, what an own," the Smoker laughed from his rock, only to disappear into a cloud of choking, green smoke from the snipe that was in Nick's possession.

"He really has to work on his hiding spots…" the Spitter said to herself as she watched everything from inside the safe room.

**---xxxxx---**


	3. Ninja Boomer Strikes Again

"Ninja Boomer strikes again…" the Boomer smiled as he hid underneath the ramp to the entrance of the Tunnel of Love.

He watched closely as two green survivor silhouettes ventured closer to him.

"Rawr!" he the Boomer exclaimed as he unleashed his vomit on the two. "Ninja Boomer strikes again!" he added as he retreated into hiding.

"Good job, Boomer Buddy," the Jockey said as he ran in to get one of the survivors that wasn't puked on, he missed, jumped, missed, jumped, and repeated quite a few times.

"C'mon already!" the Jockey yelled, finally, while in mid air, he fell dead.

The Boomer snickered and went back underneath the ramp. His vomit wasn't fully ready yet, but he could wait, the Spitter could hold em' back. As if on cue, the Spitter spat at the four on the narrow ramp, sending two of them back and the other two forward. The Boomer gulped as he noticed that Rochelle and Nick could see him, he huddled deeper into the dark crevice, fortunately for him, the survivors didn't notice him, and so as the other two were on their way back once the spit cleared, he stood up and puked.

"Ninja Boomer strikes again!" he said as he ran past the survivors.

**---xxxxx---**

**Based off something that happened to me while playing. I was the Boomer and my sister the Jockey. I made up Ninja Boomer. And no one ever said Boomer's could be ninjas ;D**

**Ninja Boomers ftfw!!!**


	4. Well Screw Me

"Well, screw me, I ain't guna make it..." Ellis said as he felt the pain of his wounds growing.

"Maybe later, Overalls," Nick winked at the other as he walked by him.

Ellis stood, dumbfounded. Had Nick just hit on him? Or was he trying to confuse him? Was Ellis being def? Why does Ellis have so many questions? Why am I asking you all of this?

"Did... did you just hear him?" Ellis asked Rochelle as she passed by him.

She stopped and turned around. "Yeah."

"And... uhhh..."

"So what?"

"Hey, Coach! I think I found a candy bar!" Nick shouted to Coach as he plowed his way past Rochelle and Ellis to rescue the candy from Nick. The only thing going through Coach's mind? Candy, candy, candy, candy!

Nick handed over the bar of heavenly chocolate to the desperate man as he watched him shovel the thing down his throat and swallow it whole.

"God, haven't you ever heard of savoring things?"

"What do you know about 'savoring'?" Coach asked Nick, eyeing him suspiciously.

"Well, I know the chocolate would taste better if you didn't eat it before your brain had time to register that it was there," Nick replied.

Nick walked away before Coach could respond to the insult, walking back over to Ellis.

"I should prob'ly save this for me, but, what the hell?" Nick said as he started wrapping bandages around Ellis' arm and leg.

"You're only doin' this ta touch me inappropriately," Ellis accused the older man.

"Yup," said Nick, quite more frankly than Ellis would have ever imagined him saying something frankly.

"Hey, Nick?" Ellis asked.

"Yeah?" says Nick as he threw the empty red med kit on the ground.

"Who's Frank?"

**---xxxxx---**

**Based off something that happened to me while playing as Ellis in Hard Rain, my sister was Nick and Ellis said that and she was like "Maybe later..." and I was like "DAD! BRANDI'S MAKING NICK HIT ON ELLIS!"**

**She didn't get in trouble u.u**

**-Yuki Adii**

**(Ignore typos that spell check missed…)**


	5. Ditched

"Okay, when two of the survivors are down there in the sewer, we'll get the two left on the street that are _making_ their way down into the sewer, but we'll stop them , the other two won't be able to get them back, right?" the Hunter reviewed to the Smoker.

"Yeah…" the Smoker said quietly in thought.

"Good, so you got it?" the Hunter asked.

"Yup," the Smoker said surely.

"Good…"

As the two infected watched the, unfortunately, green outlines of the survivors wind their way to the infected, the two became more nervous that their hiding spot behind the board they resigned behind would be exposed, and they would die. And unfortunately for those poor, poor infected, they could be shot through boards.

The Hunter crouched down, emitting low growls as he backed himself up into a corner.

"On second thought…" he whispered as he realized his growling would throw them off, he stood up and backed up deeper into the corner.

"That's not fair, I wanna hide, too!" the Smoker complained.

"I don't know, you're not coming in this corner with me…" the Hunter whispered to him. "And keep your voice down, damn it. God, you sound like a five year old…"

"Shut up… but, I don't wanna die…" the Smoker said in a tiny voice.

"Then, when you die, you'll just wait for one of the players on the infected team to get to be you, and you can play again…" the Hunter told the Smoker while stalking the survivor's silhouettes.

The Smoker pursed his lips. "I don't wanna die…"

"Neither do I… if they find you, they find me, remember?"

"Oh yeah, okay…" the Smoker said contently.

"Good…"

As the survivors got closer to the special zombies, the duo became more nervous. And as they finally came out of the house that they had to go through, the Hunter crouched and started slowly crawling towards the edge of the board.

The Smoker's nervousness made him puff out more smoke, which threatened the two.

"Try not to puff out so much smoke, damn it," the Hunter whispered harshly to the Smoker.

"I'm trying!"

"SMOKER!!!!" one of the survivors yelled.

"SNAP!" the Smoker shouted as a bullet whizzed by his head.

The Hunter stared up where the bullet had been, and as Nick yelled "HUNTER!!" he saw a much lower bullet drive past his head in a quick flash. The Hunter widened his eyes.

"DAMNIT!" he yelled as he got up and started running around aimlessly.

His smoking friend joined him and the two ran around the street in front of the survivors, who were having a hard time hitting their targets.

The Hunter, who had enough of this, stopped running.

"I don't know about you, but I'm leaping away!" he exclaimed as he crouched down and leapt behind a truck in which the survivors could not get him if he hid behind it and if they really and truly wanted to kill him, they would have to go all the way back to get him.

He listened as the Smoker screamed around, running in aimless circles, announcing he didn't want to die in a scared and trembling voice. The Smoker started climbing up where he saw the little yellow patterns that told him he could climb there, but was shot and killed, vanishing in green, toxic smoke.

The Hunter laughed at the poor Smoker who would be forced to wait to be able to see the light of the Parish again, and as he laughed he noticed that whoever was Rochelle wasn't in the sewer yet.

"Now's my chance!" he yelled as he leapt from behind the truck at Rochelle who quickly dodged his leap, the Hunter chased her around and just as she was about to fall into the sewer, he got her.

"SUCCESS!" he proclaimed happily.

"GET THIS THING OFF ME!" Rochelle screamed to her teammates, but she was alone now.

It's okay, Rochelle… the Hunter said slowly as he went to get another survivor.

**---xxxxx---**

**I was the Hunter, my sister the Smoker. We really did aimlessly run around in front of the survivors, it's fun, it makes them underestimate me :D**


	6. Dysfunctional Trip To Safeway

"Into Safeway!" the Jockey exclaimed as he happily leapt through the air towards the store.

"Yaaaay…" the Smoker said sarcastically, following behind the Jockey tiresomely.

"Don't you think it's going to be a bit weird to see one of each uncommon infected going into Safeway?" the Charger asked, uncertain if his friends were thinking through with there little shopping trip well enough or not. Images of Safeway employees shooing them out of the store, or injuring them, replayed in the Charger's nervous mind over and over.

"Naaah!" the Spitter said reassuringly.

"Yeah… sure…" the Charger said quietly.

"LET'S GO!" the Jockey said as he approached the double doors of Safeway.

"Where are the handles?" the Boomer asked.

"Uhhh…" the Smoker said, checking over the doors, not seeing any handles attached, he shrugged.

"Well how are we supposed to get in!" the Jockey yelled, going to hit the door, only to be finding himself falling between them as they slid open on their own.

"WHOA!" the Boomer pointed in astonishment.

The Smoker slid past the glass doors and hoisted the Jockey to his feet.

"Dumbass…" he muttered.

Everyone else stepped into Safeway, except for the Hunter, who was still standing there.

"Hunter, here, now," the Smoker said, pointing beside him.

The Hunter frowned, looking back at the double doors; he smiled and backed up, letting the doors close.

"What's he doing?" the Boomer asked.

"Iunno…" the Jockey replied.

The Hunter approached the doors again, and they slid open, he backed up, and they closed. Finding that rather amusing, the Hunter did that over, and over again, warring the Smoker's patience thin, who, apparently, never had any patience to begin with. LIES!

The Smoker jabbed the air at his feet, pointing to the floor.

"Hunter, here, now!" he demanded more aggressively. "God, we should put him on a leash or something!"

"Actually… that'd work pretty well…" the Spitter said thoughtfully.

The Smoker smiled to himself, sniggering sinisterly.

**---xxxxx---**

"You did this to yourself," the Smoker said without sympathy, walking down an aisle with a red leash in his hand, which came down and around the Hunter's neck.

"Whatever…" the Hunter mumbled.

The Smoker yanked on the leash sharply, jerking the Hunter forward and making him land on his face.

"My god!" the Jockey said. "We're like a dysfunctional family!"

"A _fun _dysfunctional family," the Charger corrected him.

"We have the dog…" the Spitter said, pointing to the Hunter.

"The annoying, young child…" she added, pointing to the Jockey.

"The moody teenager… the mommy… the drunken uncle… the care-free dad… the athletic cousin… and the normal child…" she said, pointing to the Smoker, Witch, Charger, Boomer, Tank, and herself.

"Why do you get to be the normal child?" the Jockey asked. "And why do I have to be the annoying one?"

"Because you're a whiney bitch," the Smoker said.

"That's why he's the moody teenager…" the Spitter said.

"I don't want to be a dog!" the Hunter complained.

"Stop whining!"

"But I don't wanna be a dog!"

"Hunter, say 'ruff'!"

"Moo!" the Hunter said with a cheeky smile.

"Fine, you can be a Cow," the Spitter said.

"… ruff," the Hunter said, reluctantly. "GET THIS LEASH OFF ME!"

"Okay, but you have to promise not to run away…" the Smoker said.

The Hunter nodded quickly and gave an innocent smile, and if this story were a movie, this would be the part where you could tell he was lying because the bull shiting halo appears on top of his head and he bats his eyelashes like a sweet, innocent angel, but this isn't a movie, so there's no halo. Get over it.

(Back to reality(Reality?))

"Okay…" the Smoker said as he undid the Hunter's leash slowly.

As soon as the Hunter felt the constricting leather of the leash lose its hold on his neck, he ran.

"Hey—I knew he was going to do that," the Smoker said as he face palmed.

"Then why'd you let him do it?" the Jockey asked obnoxiously.

"I. Don't. Know…"

"Well, lets get our shopping done and get out of here."

**---xxxxx---**

"Yes, I'd like to buy this item…" the Hunter said as he pushed a stick of deodorant in front of the cashier's face.

The Hunter was crouching down more than usual to hide his face from the cashier so she would not make a fit about it, but his attempts seemed to be in vein.

"I'm sorry, sir, but we don't serve your type here," the cashier said in a girly, bitchy, high school voice.

"What? Why not?" the Hunter asked as he stood up a little more.

The cashier pointed to a sign with a Hunter on it, the Hunter had a big red circle around it and a red slash. The Hunter sniffled.

"I just want to buy this Lady Speed Stick!" he wailed.

"I'm sorry sir, but, we don't serve your ty--"

"I KNOW YOU DON'T SERVE MY TYPE HERE! I JUST WANT SOME LADY SPEED STICK! It smells pwetty…" the Hunter sniffed and wiped at his eyes.

"DEMON!" he said, pointing to the cashier and running of with his Lady Speed Stick.

"I'm sorry sir, but we don't serve your--"

**---xxxxx---**

The Jockey hummed thoughtfully, peering over a selection of women's lingerie. He couldn't decide which one had the nicest body.

"Jockey, what are you doing?" the Witch asked.

The Jockey looked over at the Witch. Realizing he had been caught looking at the half naked women on the underwear boxes, he laughed awkwardly. The Witch placed her hands on her hips, waiting impatiently for an explanation. When she didn't receive one, she grabbed the Jockey by the ear and led him away from the feminine products aisle. She always knew Jockeys were perverts.

On the way to wherever the hell they were going, the Witch caught sight of something. Something dark and small, something giving off sniffing noises.

"Hunter!" the Jockey asked.

The Hunter turned around. "Yeah?"

"Are you snorting!"

"NO!"

The Hunter turned all the way around and revealed a Lady Speed Stick.

"Were… you sniffing that?" the Witch asked.

The Hunter nodded. "I went to buy it, but the cashier wouldn't let me…"

"Why not?"

"_Apparently_ they don't serve Hunters here," the Hunter explained.

"So… you're sniffing it?"

"Yupp!"

"Wow…"

"Well… you have fun with that…" the Witch said as she led the Jockey away.

"I will!" the Hunter called to them.

**---xxxxx---**

*At the end of their trip*

"So, did everyone get what they wanted?" the Smoker asked.

"Yupp," everyone said in unison, except the Hunter, who was sitting down on the ground with crossed arms and a pouting face.

"Get over it," the Smoker said irritably.

"No!" the Hunter snapped.

"Hey Hunty… look what I got you…" the Boomer said cheerfully.

"What is it?" the hunter asked as he looked up at the Boomer eagerly.

The Boomer revealed a Lady Speed Stick from behind his back, but it wasn't any ordinary Lady Speed Stick, it was a _Jumbo_ Lady Speed Stick.

"OH MY GOD! I LOVE YOU!" the Hunter yelled as he snatched the deodorant from the Boomer and hugged him.

The Hunter quickly took off the cap and started smelling the stick of deodorizing materials, he was in heaven. (Weirdo)

**---xxxxx---**

**Yeeeah… that was messed up :D**

**Lady Speed Stick does smell good though n.n**

**Ignore typos that spell check didn't get… -.-''**


	7. Face Palms

"Face palm," the Charger said as he lightly slapped his forehead.

"Face palm," the Spitter said as she followed suit.

"FACE PALM!" the Jockey yelled. "What's a face palm?"

"What's… a face palm?" the Spitter asked.

"You… want to know… what a face palm is?" the Charger asked in disbelief.

The Jockey nodded.

"HOW COULD YOU NOT KNOW WHAT A FACE PALM IS!" the Spitter barked briskly.

The Jockey gulped and felt extremely small in the face of the Spitter's irrational rage.

If this were a cartoon, which it isn't, this is where the Siptter would lose her pupils and iris in her eyes, they would turn into triangles, she would develop fangs, there would be fires flaring up behind her, and she would be looming over the Jockey… but, this isn't a cartoon, so screw that.

"I don't understand what that is," the Jockey explained in a small voice.

"Ooooh, well why didn't you say so?" the Spitter asked kindly.

"Gee… I don't know…"

"Let's go ask the expert on face palms," the Charger suggested.

"YEAH!" the Spitter agreed as she took hold of the Jockey's thin wrist and lead him to wherever they were going.

"Who's the expert?"

"You'll see…"

I'll give you a few seconds to guess who the expert is…

Go on… guess…

1

2

3

4

5

"Smoker, Jockey doesn't know what a face palm is…" the Spitter said.

The Smoker looked down at the Jockey who was busy looking at the dirt and grim under his nail and picking at it contently.

The Smoker face palm'd and sighed. "Why did you come to see me?"

"Because you're a face palm expert."

The Smoker did another face palm and shook his head with disappointment. "And why do you say that?"  
"Because you've already done two face palms and we haven't even been here for a minute," the Charger said innocently.

"I, love, cheese," the Jockey said as he blankly looked forward.

"Okay, Jockey," the Smoker began "You want to know what a face palm is?"

The Jockey nodded excitedly.

"It's where you do this," the Smoker said.

He lifted up his hand, and slowly dragged it to his forehead, and slapped it.

"Looks painful…" the Jockey said as his eye twitched. "What's it do?"

"It's supposed to represent the words that describe another's failure," the Smoker professed.

"So… if… let's say… the Hunter went to go leap on a survivor but the survivor moved and he leaped right off an edge into the water, I could face palm?" the Jockey asked.

"Yup, I would face palm, too, because that would be just too awesome," the Smoker said as he smiled with the thought.

Leap, fall off an edge, leap fall off an edge. Oh how he would love to see that.

"And, you could also do that if someone was being a retard, like you were," the Smoker added.

"Hey!" the Jockey said.

"You said "I love cheese" so seriously, it would require a face palm."

"But… I do love cheese…" the Jockey sniffled.

"Cheese is gross… because… it's not survivor," the Charger said.

"A-GREED!" the Spitter said obnoxiously.

"Cheeeeeese," the Jockey smiled.

The Smoker did a face palm and sighed.

"I guess up…" he said as he made his leave.

"SURVIVOR!" the Hunter yelled as he careened through the air, his target in his sights. Rochelle looked up at him and her brown eye twitched before she took a step to the right. The Hunter, missing his mark completely, fell off an edge and into the water of the dock.

"Ha, he missed it!" the Charger said.

"NOOOO!" the Hunter wailed before his voice was drowned out by the merciless water. "I DON'T KNOW HOW TO SWIM!"

"I don't think any of us do…"

"Cheese…"

"Face palm,"

**-xxxxx-**

**Oh wow…**

**Sorry I haven't been really writing much… been busy… dealing with a lot, also I haven't been in a story writing mood recently. So, sorry about that…**

**I should be writing more… I hope… I enjoi it… n.n**

**THANKS FOR READING… I guess ._.**


	8. Aspirin

"What's two plus two?" the Jockey questioned.

"Four," the Smoker sighed.

"What four plus-"

"Eight."

"Wha-"

"Sixteen," the Smoker glanced at the Jockey's hunched figure and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Don't you have a life to attend to?"

"No," the Jockey replied matter-of-factly.

"Well go get one," the Smoker advised.

"Nah," the Jockey answered, not picking up on the hint.

"Do we have any aspirin?" the Smoker asked, feeling a lingering headache growing larger with every second he spent with the, what reminded him of a termite, infected.

"I think so..." the Jockey replied, trying to remember where the aspirin could be located. "I think it's in the medicine cabinet."

"Jee, really?" the Smoker said sarcastically.

"Yeah," the Jockey smiled at the Smoker in a taunting manner, feeling that the Smoker was starting to not be able to withstand his company any more.

The Smoker stood up and rushed for the bathroom.

"Gotta get the aspirin, gotta get the aspirin," he repeated over and over in a fury to get the pills inside his stomach.

He threw the cabinet open and rummaged through it hastily, finding nail polish, pill bottles, mouthwash, and toothpaste. He picked up a pill bottle and read the label, "Tylenol". He chucked it behind him and grabbed another bottle, "Anti-depressants". He caught a bottle as it toppled off the shelf and down to the ground, reading the label, "Viagra". Viagra? The Smoker looked disgustedly at the bottle. Viagra? Wonder whose that could be. Like he needed an answer.

He glowered at the cabinet. Where the crap was the aspirin!

"Hey, do we have any more aspirin?" the Smoker asked the Boomer as he joyously walked by.

"No, I think the Jockey used the last of it," the Boomer answered for him without stopping his merry walk down the hall to God knew where.

"FUUUUUUUUUUCK!" the Smoker yelled.

He slammed the cabinet shut and stormed back to where he saw the Jockey.

"Where is that little brat?" he fumed.

He heard intense sobbing coming from a corner of the room and he looked. The Witch.

"Witch?" he asked, managing to collect a degree of calmness again.

"Yeah?" the Witch stammered.

"Do you know where the Jockey is, or if we have some aspirin?"

The Witch stopped crying and looked at the Smoker, her eyes glowing red, as usual. "Uhh... I think I saw a bottle of Tylonel Pain Killers on the counter in the kitchen, that would help."

The Smoker thanked the Heavans. He smiled at the Witch and thanked her before practically tripping in a hurry to the kicten.

"Tylenol, Tylenol, Tylenol," he kept mumbling.

He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw the translucent, yellow bottle with a blue label reading "Tylenol Arthritis Pain".

"Yes!" he whispered.

Just when he thought he was home free, a little clawed hand snatched the bottle from sights.

"Laxatives!" the Hunter read falsely from the bottle's label. "What reason do you have for laxatives?"

"What? Dumbass, that's Tylenol," the Smoker explained impatiently.

"No, the bottle _clearly_ says "La-xa-tives"," the Hunter replied, pointing his bloodied finger to the words Tylenol Arthritis Pain where he suggested the word Laxatives were supposed to be.

"Just give me the bottle," the Smoker said, reaching out his right hand for the bottle.

"Mine!" the Hunter snapped, holding the bottle out of the Smoker's reach.

"What reason do _you_ have for Laxatives?" the Smoker smirked.

"I have the shits," the Hunter lied.

"Okay… first of all, that's disgusting, and second of all, Laxatives _give_ you the shits," the Smoker informed the Hunter.

"Oh… so that's what Laxatives are," the Hunter smiled and put the bottle down. "There you go!"

"Thank… you…" the Smoker said stiffly, unscrewing the blue cap and shaking one of the pills into his open hand. "Get me some water."

The Hunter ran to the tap and got the Smoker a glass of cold water, handing him the cup with a wide grin on his face. "Here you go!"

"Jee, you're happy," the Smoker commented before popping the pill in his mouth and downing the ice cold water.

"Yeah, wanna know why?" the Hunter asked excitedly.

"Suuuure."

"Those really are laxatives!"

**-xxCHEESECAKExx-**

**Uhhh… about the laxatives being in the Tylenol bottle… the Jockey did it xD**


	9. Trivial Pursuit And Slinkies

"Slinkies, slinkies, loving up ma slinkies, slinkies," the Charger sang to himself. "Yesh, I love me slinkies, yes I do, yes I do, yes I-"

"What are you doing?" the Charger stared at the Witch and scratched the back of his head, laughing nervously.

"I asked you a question," The Witch told him, putting her hand firmly on her hip.

"Uhh… singing a song…" the Charger replied.

"Mhm, yeah, what kind of song?"

"The good kind!" the Charger yelled, crossing his arms defensively.

"That gives me so much elaboration!" the Witch clapped like the Charger was a five year old child, which we all know to be untrue… or, do we?

"'A course we do!" the Charger commented at the above text.

"No, stupid, we're not supposed to know this is a story!" the Witch snapped, hitting him upside the head.

"Oh yeah…" the Charger winced.

"I like cheese cake…" the Jockey whispered.

"That's why the name of the story is cheese ca—wait a tick, where'd you come from?" the Charger asked, staring at the Jockey who had spontaneously appeared out of nowhere.

"Do you really want me to answer that question?" the Jockey asked darkly.

"Well… kind of yeah…"

"No you don't! I've been from hell and back! That's all I have to say…"

"Morons…" the Witch remarked, walking way.

"So…" the Jockey said quietly.

"So…" the Charger replied.

"Wanna make out?" the Jockey asked with a grin on his face.

"Not really…"

The Jockey frowned.

"Shut down!" the Boomer taunted.

"Hey guys, there's a party on Nick and everyone's invited!" the Spitter exclaimed, rushing past the three.

"Party on Nick!" the Charger said in disbelief. "That never happens! It's usually Ellis, because people that play as him run off foolishly… err… most of the time…" the Charger added meekly, forgetting the author always played as Ellis if she had the opportunity.

"You suck at pretending this isn't a story…" the Jockey said.

"Be quiet!" the Charger snapped.

He saw a Hunter leap into he crowd of zombies rabidly eating something in the middle; Nick.

"No, the Hunter always gets the last kill!" the Jockey whined.

"It's true," the Spitter crossed her arms. "or the Charger."

"True, true."

"Who's up for some Trivial Pursuit!"

"I am!"

"Dialog endings…"

"God have mercy on our souls…"

**-xxxxx-**

**I **_**love**___**cheese cake :D**

**Sorry about the random ass story, I just thought about how in my Guilt story I said "L slinked his arms around Light's neck" or something, and I thought about how I love slinkies, and that's what the story was made out of xD**

**Slinkies + Stairs = win**


	10. So Gangster

"Yo mamma is _so_ fat that she uses that asteroid belt as her belt!" the Jockey dissed.

"Well yo mamma is so stupid she got stabbed in a shoot out!" the Spitter giggled.

"Well yo mamma is so stupid she thought that Taco Bell was a Mexican phone company!" the Charger intervened.

"Well you mamma is so skinny that she has to wear a belt with spandex!" the Jokcey added.

"Your guys' mommas are so stupid that they looked over a glass wall," the Smoker

"Oooooh!" the Hunter taunted as he waved his hands around. "You guys got _served_!"

"You momma is so fat that when she sat on Wal-Mart, they lowered their prices," the Smoker mumbled. "Your mommas are so stupid that they got locked in a convenience store and starved."

"That was just rude..." the Charger sniffed.

"But true all at the same time," the Spitter added for him.

The Charger nodded in agreement.

"Okay, I got one!" the Hunter shouted. "Your momma is _so_ poor that when I went to rob her, I went in the front door and tripped out the back."

"touché..." the Smoker mumbled. "well your momma is so poor, that when I saw her kicking a can down the street and asked her what she was doing, she said "Moving"!"

The Hunter narrowed his eyes. "It's on! Your momma so poor that when I ring the door bell, she goes "DING!"."

"Your momma is so poor that she gets the ducks to throw bread at her!"

The Hunter smirked. "Your momma is s-"

"What the hell?" Rochelle asked, looking at the infected.

"We're having a yo momma joke competition because we're gangsters!" the Jockey replied. "Or rather we were until the Hunter and Smoker took over..."

"Your momma is so ugly that no' even Nick woul' fuck 'er," Ellis commented.

"That was just uncalled for!" the Spitter yelled.

"Well your momma is such a hick that she needed a recipe book to make ice cubes!" the Jockey yelled.

"Hey!" Ellis crossed his arms.

"Can we just kill them or something?" Nick asked through a sigh.

"Your momma is so ugly that she got entered in a beauty contest ta make the other contestants make themselves feel better!" Ellis countered.

"Ooooooh!" the Charger taunted.

"Can we just _please_ go?" Nick demanded.

"Not yet! This is getting good!" Coach said.

"Christ..." Nick mumbled.

"Rap off!" the Spitter declared. "Jockey, hit it!"

The Jockey placed his hand over his mouth and started the beat.

The Spitter stood up. "I am a spitter, I eat survivors, because I like to litter!"

"What the hell was that?"

"Shut up, at least it rhymed!"

Rochelle stepped forward. "Ya'll act like you never seen a white person before, jaws all on the floor, like Pam, like Tommy just burst in the door and started whopping her ass worse than before-"

"Okay, I'm going to have to stop you there," the Smoker interrupted. "One, you're not white, two, that's Eminem."

"So?" Rochelle shrugged.

Coach stepped in with a pair of shades on. "I'm black and I'm laid back, this is my gun that I hold to your head and then you're stunned. I may be fat, but I bring sexy back!"

"Ooooooh!" Rochelle and Ellis said in unison.

"Fuuuck!" Nick yelled, taking out his oozi, standing to the side all gangster like, shooting everybody down.

He looked at the dead bodies of his enemies and companions and his eye twitched.

"Oops..." he mumbled.

He pursed his lips and was about to make a run for it before he heard a high screech and was pounced by a hunter.

"God damnit!" he shouted. "Didn't I kill you!"

**-xxxxx—**

"Jeez, Nick, there was no call fer killin' us," Ellis complained.

"Well you were driving me insane," Nick explained coldly.

"Divas!" Coach scoffed.

**-xxxxx-**

**THAT WAS INTENSE! xD**


	11. Sexy Come Backs

**Charger x Tank warning. Charger uke, obviously. **

**BTW, mah sister came up with the name.**

**-xxxxx-**

"Hi, Hunter..." the Charger said in a creepy voice to the blue, hunched silhouette.

The infected ignored him for the longest time until...

"I'm saying hi!" the Charger said in a hurt voice.

"So?" the Hunter finally replied.

"So say hi back to me," the Charger told him.

The Hunter sighed. "Hi."

"Yay," the Charger cheered. "Oh crap, I spawneded."

The Hunter looked at the now fully solid (lol... solid...) Charger and smiled.

"I don't wanna die, I'm scared," he whimpered.

The Hunter sighed and walked into his corner, spawning to make him shut up.

"Yay," the Charger grinned.

The Hunter just rolled his eyes and backed up.

"Charger!" they heard Nick yell.

The Hunter gulped and backed up into a different corner away from the Charger, fear building up inside of him that a survivor would come and check the safe room where the two infected hid. The Hunter saw a green silhouette venturing closer to the safe room and he whimpered, running in front of the Charger.

"Hold me!" he whimpered.

"Ew, no," the Charger hit the Hunter on the head, causing him two HP and ran past a white table and across the room beside a hole in the floor that had a ladder extending down. "Stupid kid."

"Hey!" the Hunter yelled, running after the Charger.

"No, I'm sorry!" the Charger panicked, jolting to the opposing side of the room and cowering in a corner.

The Hunter dragged his claws twice across the Charger big arm, causing him six HP.

"Hey, I only hit you twice," the Charger frowned.

The Hunter shrugged and when he realized that the bridge was lowered and the survivors were on their merry way, he ran outside, closely followed by the Charger.

"Dick..." the Hunter commented as he ran along side the opposite side of a truck as the Charger.

"Ass..." the Charger returned, watching the Hunter's outline.

"Dick _sucker_," the Hunter grinned.

"Ass _kisser_," the Charger smirked.

"Mature," the Spitter said to herself.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," the Hunter paused and looked at Nick who was busy being steered away from his teammates.

"You know what, just for the hell of it..." the Hunter said, crouching down and taking the Jockey's kill.

"Hey!" the Jockey whined. "That was my kill!"

"It was so tempting though..." the Hunter replied innocently.

"So?" the Jockey walked away in pursuit of another kill.

After the infected had killed off all of the survivors, the Hunter sat down and sighed. The Charger sat next to him.

"Want to finish our comeback war?" the Charger suggested.

"I guess..."

"It's your turn," the Charger told him.

"Flat head," the Hunter yawned.

"No eyes," the Charger stuck his tongue out at him.

"I have eyes, I saw you and the Tank do it yesterday," the Hunter smiled.

"We did not! And even if we did, what would you be doing looking at that?"

"Uhhhh..." the Hunter drew a blank. "Touché... wait, well you were so loud that I was curious."

"You're such a perv. It's not like you and Smoker have never done it," the Charger shot back.

"You still haven't countered my saying you're on the bottom," the Hunter smirked.

"Well you would be on the bottom with everyone but the Jockey."

The Hunter shot up and gawked at the Charger. "Would not be!"

"Would too! Even with me!" the Charger remarked.

"How come, in this world, the special infected always resort to sex and sexually related things?" the Spitter questioned.

"Because it's sexy?" the Jockey suggested.

"Because sexual things are embarrassing," the Smoker answered.

"Oh... makes sense..." the Spitter nodded with understanding.

"Dick head!" she heard the Hunter shouted.

"You love your dicks, don't you?" the Charger smirked.

"Dick is such a graphic word. Use... penis, to be politically correct," the Spitter told them.

"I ain't worried about being politically correct," the Hunter frowned.

"Well shut up and stop arguing already, it's getting annoying!" the Spitter demanded.

"Nevah!" the Charger declared.

Just then the ground started to shake and the Tank from the bridge finale chapter showed up. He looked at the Hunter and the Charger who had their eyes narrowed at each other.

"Wha wong?" (what's wrong) he asked.

"The Charger's being a di—penis!" the Hunter explained, not taking his eyes off the Charger.

"There you go," the Spitter commented.

The Tank looked at the Charger in shock. "Why you do dat? Tank have to punish you."

The Charger's jaw dropped and he stared wide-eyed at the Tank.

"Kinky, I like it," the jockey remarked.

"Jockey's are sick..." the Spitter mumbled.

The Hunter smirked triumphantly, watching as the Tank scooped up the Charger in his arms and took off with him down the bridge to do... whatever, the Hunter didn't care. "I win."

The Smoker tapped him on the shoulder and the Hunter whipped his head around. "Yeah?"

The Smoker just stared at the Hunter for quite some time before shaking his head solemnly. The Hunter furrowed his eyebrows. "What?"

"You could have saved thousands by switching your car insurance over to Geico..." he almost whispered before walking off.

"So they are gay!" the Spitter gestured towards where the Tank and Charger went. "Witch." She held out her hand where the Witch plopped a leg and arm in.

"Ass hole..." the Witch grumbled. "I wanted that..."

"Wait... you guys bet on that?" the Hunter cocked an eyebrow.

"Duh!"

"Moron."

"Good call, Spitter, good call," the Jockey praised.

"Thanks," the Spiter smiled.

"Those were my human limbs! Do you know how much crying I had to go through! I even went and spiced some herbs on them!" the Witch protested.

"Well now they're mine!" the Spitter turned around and started to munch on the limbs contently.

"WHAT A RIP!" the Hunter shouted.

The Witch started to sob and she held her hands over her face.

"I'm not falling for that," the Spitter told her.

The Witch cried louder.

"Stop it!"

The Witch let out a wail and a few tears streamed down her face.

"Fine!" the Spitter tossed a limb at her reluctantly.

"Score," the Witch scuttled away.

"Oh my God I can't see my feet!" the Boomer yelled, looking down only to see a bloated gut.

"Uhhh... yeah..."

The Smoker did a face palm and inhaled. "Surrounded by idiots..."

"I thought you left..."

"I'm stealthy, what do you expect?"

"What about your hacking, wheezing, cough-"

"You didn't see me come here, right?"

"Yeah..."

"Enough said."

**-xxxxx-**

**That was so much FUN! I give credit to my sister, Nariko-Kyoko, for helping me with around... 45% of this.**

**This was based off what happened to me and my sister while we were playing on the Parish. I was the Hunter, she was the Charger. Everything from when Hunter killed Nick is made up. **

**Sorry about the retardedness. I kinda ran out of ideas and sorry if it isn't that funny u.u**

**-Yuki Adii**


	12. Bob And The Boomer

The Boomer's rounded silhouette sharply turned a corner and huddled behind some bales of hay in a shack that had flies buzzing about in it. He paid no mind to the flies, he just squatted down and waited patiently for the survivors to leave so he could spawn and kick some serious ass. All though, he was a Boomer, so he couldn't expect much.

"Is that your friend?" a Smoker silhouette asked.

"What?" the Boomer looked around to see a lonely common infected stumble through his silhouette. "Oh my God, hell yeah!"

"Wow..." the Smoker rolled his eyes... err... eye, I mean.

"So, Bob?" the Boomer asked, looking at the infected. "How's it going?"

"You named it?" the Smoker cocked an eyebrow.

"Yupp!" the Boomer giggled.

"Jesus..."

"So, Bob?" the Boomer queried, leaning back. He spawned as the survivors took some steps out of the safe room. "Hey! You have shiny skin, what moisturizer to you use?"

It was true, the Boomer could see light reflecting off of the infected's dark skin, perfectly parallel to the contours of his arms. Even though the Boomer wasn't 100% sure what light was reflecting off his skin so clearly because the swamp was pretty dark. Especially this chapter of the campaign. Shanty Town. It was such a... grubby chapter. Oh well, it was the Swamp, he couldn't really expect a 5 star hotel, could he?

"Whoa, Bob?" the Boomer furrowed his eyebrows. "You don't look so good..."

Bob leaned over and he puked up... blood?

"Whoa, Bob's had one too many!" the Boomer commented, holding up a hand to high-five Bob.

"Or not..." he said quietly when he didn't receive one.

Bob whipped around when the survivor's presence disturbed his puking moments.

"No, Bob, don't go!" the Boomer warned. "Let me handle this..."

The Boomer stepped out of the shack and took a breath.

"Messiah!" the yelled, releasing his vomit on two out of three survivors. He saw Bob run out of the shack and just remembered his puke attracted hordes and Bob was, all though he was alone, unfortunately a part of that horde. He watched with quivering lips as Bob was lost in the frock of zombies cluttering around the two dripping with vomit. He whimpered. "Bob!"

He saw a zombie fly out of the throng of infected and he rushed to its side; it was Bob.

"Bob, I'm so sorry!" he wailed. "Bob!" he screamed, looking ta the heavens. "Why!"

He had a few moments surprisingly keeping his full 50 HP intact considering he was right in front of the three humans, crying over the deceased friend. His whimpering slowly turned into deep breaths of vengeance. He turned around, claws drawn. "I will avenge y-"

"Boomer!" Coach called, shooting the Boomer and watching explode in a fury of guts and blood. "That one's mine!"

"Ooooh..." the Smoker cringed. "Sucks to be him..."

"Indeed..." the Jockey nodded.

And even now to this day, the memory of Bob lives on. Only though it's only been three hours, he will never be forgotten, forgotten as the infected who puked, smelled vomit, ran, got shot, and end of story.

**-XXXXX-**

**LOL. That happened to me while in Swamp Fever with my sister and boyfriend and rom random dude whose name I forget... I think it may have been pr wolverine or something... or it could not be. I was the Boomer, my sister the Smoker and my boyfriend the Jockey. IDK what my boyfriend actually said, my sister had the mic, so his line was made up. As for the Boomer's and Smoker's lines, those were actually said during game play.**

**THANKS FOR READING! :D**


	13. Road Trip!

**Warning! PLEASE READ! If you love Justin Beiber, I do bash him in this story, but it's not bad... just... you know. Justin Beiber bashing warning!**

**-xxxCHEESE CAKExxx-**

"Guess what guys!" the Witch enthused.

"What?" the Smoker asked flatly.

We're going on a road trip!" she answered with a cheeky grin.

The Smoker blinked at the skinny, anorexic like infected. "You're kidding?"

"Road trip!" the Jockey wailed.

"There are so many things wrong with this!" the Smoker argued. "For one, we don't have a car! Secondly, all of us can't fit in a car, between the Tank and Boomer, anyways!"

"We'll get a van that seats eight people, will that make you feel better?" the Witch compromised.

"No!"

"Don't be so moody!" the Spitter interjected. "Jesus, it's like you're on constant PMS!"

"I am deeply offended..." the Smoker mumbled sarcastically.

"You should be," the Spitte smiled.

"Something tells me he was being sarcastic..." the Hunter said. "I mean... I don't know, it's just a hunch but... I don't know, just guessing here, just something telling me that he's being sarcastic... I guess it's his personality or... I don't know, just taking a-"

"We get it..." the Spitter interrupted.

"L.O.L!" the Jockey yelled obnoxiously.

"Well, children, let's go!" the Witch ushered.

"Hunter not a kid!" the Hunter defended for himself.

"Please, you're probably the youngest out of all of us," the Smoker said, crushing his dreams. He crushed them good! No... just kidding!

"Well, I don't know how old I am, I forgot," the Hunter explained, folding his arms across his chest.

"Don't make me get the strap!" the Witch threatened.

"Told you she was the Mommy..." the Spitter whispered.

"How are we going to fit the Tank into a car?" the Smoker demanded.

"Stop being so pessimistic!" the Hunter smacked him.

"We'll just find a limo... he can sit below the sun roof..." the Spitter suggested.

**-xxxxx-**

**They found the car, now they must fit everyone in it-**

**"This... is our car?" the Smoker asked.**

**"Yeah," the Witch said.**

**"Jesus..."**

**"Okay, who's the smallest of us all?" the Witch started.**

**"Jockey," the Boomer, Spitter, and Hunter said in unison.**

**"Assholes..." the Jockey uttered. **

**"Okay, Jockey, you have to sit beside the Tank," the Witch instructed. "Tank!"**

**The Tank came rumbling next to the car accompanied with some eager giggling. "Tank!"**

**"Get inside this car," the Witch told him, wasting no time in organizing the seating.**

**"Tank?"**

**"Just do it!"**

**The Tank crawled awkwardly into the car and sat in the very back, his body compacted in the corner. **

**"Now, Jockey, get in."**

**The Jockey knew not to argue and filed in the car right beside the Tank. The Tank, realizing he had more room because of the Jockey's tiny body, let his muscles relax and he spread out a bit more, luckily the Jockey was very small in comparison to the Tank, because he wasn't squished between the Tank and the side of the car. **

**"Who's the second smallest out of all of us?" the Witch asked.**

**"Either the Hunter or you," the Spitter replied.**

**"Well, I'm driving, so Hunter, get it," the Witch commanded. **

**"Make me, bi-"**

**"Do it!"**

**"Okay! where do I sit?"**

**"Sit... in the seat in front of the Tank." **

**The Hunter climbed inside the car and sat down comfortably, shifting about on the seat to make his experience more comfortable for him and his little claws. **

**"Now Smoker, go sit beside the Hunter," the Witch told the Smoker. **

**"Why? You know I don't like him!" the Smoker denied. **

**"That's why," the Witch flashed her tongue at the Witch. **

**"Bitch..." the Smoker whispered. He got in the car and sat down in the seat across the small gap from the Hunters. He heard a gasp of surprise from the other infected.**

**"You set me up!" the Hunter accused the Witch.**

**"A durr..." the Witch rolled her glowing eyes. **

**"Oh well, might as well have some fun..." the Hunter thought out loud. He faced the Smoker and looked at him with an icy glare. "Hi, I'm Hunter... oh wait... you knew that... blah blah blah!"**

**"God help me!" the Smoker snapped.**

**"Okay... now Spitter... sit in the seat in front of the Hunter... the Charger will sit in the seat in front of the Smoker... I'll be driving... and the Boomer will be in the passenger's seat," the Witch told everyone. **

**Without argument or complaint... because they knew better... they all got into their designated seating and buckled up.**

**"Hold onto your seats," the With called to everyone. "And if I hear ANY fighting coming from back there... I WILL punish you guys!"**

**"What's the punishment?" the Hunter called to her from his seat.**

**"You DON'T want to know..." the Boomer told him for her.**

**The Witch started the car with the keys she had found already in the ignition and they were off out into the world of zombies. YAY ZOMBIES!**

**-xxxxx-**

***In the car***

**"I'm bored!" the Jockey yelled from the back seat. **

**"A, b, c, d, e, f, g," the Tank recited to himself. **

**"And the Tank won't stop singing his ABCs," Jockey complained. **

**"Stop bothering me!" the Smoker snapped. **

**"But I love you!" the Hunter wailed.**

**"You're just saying that to make people feel sorry for you!"**

**"You're good!"**

**"So how's the weather?" the Spitter asked the Charger nonchalantly like there wasn't hell just seats behind her. **

**"Pretty good... It's very mild..."**

**"Wiiiitch!" the Hunter wailed. "The Smoker hit me!"**

**"Okay, time for punishment!" the Witch snapped. "Boomer, put these on... Spitter... Charger..." the Witch handed earmuffs to the Boomer, Spitter, Charger, and put a pair on herself. "I just want you guys to know... you did this to yourselves!"**

**"One girl, one time, I'm only going to tell you one time!" Justin Beiber sang on the radio. **

**"Oh my god, I'm sorry!" the Hunter started crying. "Make it stop!"**

**"Baby, baby, baby, oooooooh!"**

**"Baby, baby, baby ooooooh!" the Jockey sang to the song, seeming to enjoy listening to the young artist sing. **

**"Fag," the Smoker barked to him. **

**"Dat was wude Smoker, you apowogize wight-Yellow car!" the Tank shouted, punching the Jockey. The brutal force of his punch so great it sent the Jockey flying through the window. The Witch stopped the car abruptly and whipped her head around to see a broken window, grinning Tank, frightened Hunter, and glaring Smoker. "What the fuck!"**

**"APPARENTLY the Tank saw a yellow car," the Smoker explained.**

**"Even though we're not PLAYING yellow car," the Hunter frowned. The Hunter undid his seatbelt and fumbled his way out the door, running to the aid of the Jockey, followed by everyone else. **

**"I see the light..." the Jockey whispered as the Hunter held him in his arms. **

**"Shut up, dude, you're okay," the Hunter slapped him. "You still have 250 HP. That's my HP full."**

**The Jockey scrambled out of the Hunter's arms and coughed uncomfortably.**

**"By the way, Tank, what yellow car did you see?" the Witch asked.**

**The Tank pointed to a purple car across the street. **

**"What the fuck? That's purple, what are you, colour blind?"**

**"I'm cowour bwind! I wanted to be a artist!" the Tank staggered. "Pourque!"**

**"He knows french?" the Hunter asked.**

**"He's colour blind?"**

**"He thought we were playing Yellow car?"**

**"This is messed up!" **

**"Well, at least the Jockey is-"**

**"Jockey!" Rochelle screamed, shooting the Jockey and watching as he died. "That was mine!"**

**"You slut!" the Hunter yelled. "You killed my friend!" the Hunter pounced on Rochelle and everyone, especially the Smoker, watched in amusement. **

**After Rochelle died, the Hunter cape back, lapping blood off his sweater contently. **

**"Awww, you're so cute!" the Spitter gushed. **

**"I am not!" the Hunter defended.**

**"Yeah... you're pretty ugly..." the Smoker nodded. **

**"Ass bag!" **

**"Okay, let's just get back on the bus when the Jockey respawns..." the Witch sighed. **

**After the Jockey respawned, they got back in the van, the started driving, the Witch was forced to play more Justin Beiber, and so on and so forth, they eventually reached their destination... I don't know where that was... but okay...**

**"Eminem is the shit!" the Charger declared. **

**-xxxxx-**

**Sorry about the random Eminem thing... Eminem's Not Afraid was playing as I was finishing... I love him!**

**And don't flame me because you love Justin Beiber and I don't...**


	14. Hunter Has A Friend, Too

"Why won't the survivors leave the safe house?" the Charger demanded.

"I don't know..." the Smoker frowned. "Pussies."

"Well I'm going to go find a house," the Hunter declared grandly. He got down on all fours and started to aimlessly leap through the flooding streets of the 4th chapter of Hard Rain. Through the fog the Hunter caught a glimpse of a lonely common infected. He stopped leaping and surveyed the street for any more common infected. Empty. Suddenly, he recognized the infected and hopped down to his side.

"Fred, long time no see!" the Hunter greeted. Fred, being a common infected an all, did not respond to him.

"So what's up, how's it been?"

Fred stumbled a few steps forward.

"C'mon man, don't leave a brother hanging..." the Hunter continued.

Fred ignored him.

"C'mon man, don't be like that," Hunter complained.

Fred gurgled and stepped forward, hacking up some blood.

"Fine, fuck you..." the Hunter swipped at Fred two or three times before he died.

The Hunter smirked triumphantly and cackled. "I win!" he keeled over and started choking before some blood trickled out of his mouth and down his chin.

"Gah! I'm dying!" he cried. "Oh wait... that's normal..."

"Why did you kill Fred?" the Spitter asked.

"He was ignoring me!" Hunter answered.

"Dumb ass... he's a COMMON infected, he doesn't talk," the Spitter retorted.

The Hunter gasped. "Fred!" He crouched down beside Fred and took his limp, bloodied hand on his own. "I'm so sorry..."

The Spitter kicked him gently. "Let's go..."

"See... Boomer isn't the only one with a Common infected friend, I have Fred!" Hunter insisted childishly.

"Bob!" Boomer wailed in anguish.

"Loser..." Hunter snickered.

"Shuddup, Fred died, too!" Boomer replied sharply.

The Hunter sniffed. "It's true!"

"Morons..."

**-xxxxx-**

**I was the Hunter... my sister the Spitter... yeah... it was funny... I did find a house, BTW, but I had to live in an ambulance because my sister jacked my house :/**

**The survivors weren't leaving so... thought I might as well have fun... n_n**

**We later found them in a house of their own and killed them though**


	15. Cheese Cake

**-xxxCHEESE CAKExxx-**

"Okay, let's review," the Spitter told everyone.

"Mkay..." the Jockey nodded.

"Let's talk about this story," the Spitter moved along. "We've got the first chapter of the story which is named Dudes With Bad Grammar which is completely pointless."

"All of the story is completely pointless, moron," the Charger scoffed.

"All it is is the Hunter and Smoker saying dude over twenty times in one scentce and then the Hunter creeps out the Jockey by saying him and the Smoker are going out, yaoi hints in that one," the Spitter reviewd.

"Dude..." the Hunter groaned.

"The second chapter is called Ring Around The Rosey which is about the Charger and his usual stupidity."

"Yeah, but it's the author's stupidity because it was based off what she did when she was me in the game," the Charger explained.

"Moving on," the Spitter nodded. "The thrid chapter is called Ninja Boomer Strikes Again which focuses on the Boomer."

"Wait," the Smoker interrupted. "Are we going to be doing _all_ the chapters? Because there's fourteen of them."

"Shut up, don't interrupt me," the Spitter barked. "Chapter four is called Well Screw Me which concentrates on Nick on Ellis yaoi, a chapter about the survivors, there aren't much of these in this story, are there?"

"Nope, just about me because I'm the author's favourite," the Hunter boasted.

"Moving on," the Spitter sighed. "The fifth chapter is called Ditched which is about the Hunter being his usual ass self and leaving the Smoker to die."

"Hey, it's called Left 4 Dead for a reason," the Hunter defended.

"Sixth chapter is called Dysfunctional Trip To Safeway which is about all of us going to Safeway and... doing whatever."

"I got deoderant!" the Hunter cheered.

"Yeah... chick deoderant," the Jockey added under his breath.

"Seventh chapter is called Face Palms, which for once doesn't invlove the _Hunter_," the Spitter glared at the Hunter whow as stealing the lime light.

The Hunter put his hands up. "Chapters two, three, and four don't include me either."

"Chapter eigth is called Aspirin and is about the Jockey pissing the Smoker off. Chapter nine is called Trivial Pursuit and Slinkies."

"How many more chapters are there?" the Charger whined.

"Only... five," the Boomer reassured.

"Chapter ten is called So Gangster, maybe one of the better chapters, _maybe_," the Spitter continued. "And this is where the story starts getting bad."

"I rather like this story!" the Charger frowned.

"Chapter eleven is called Sexy Comebacks," the Spitter ignored the Charger's commentary. "Chapter twelve is called Bob And The Boomer. Chapter thirteen is called Road Trip!, and chapter fourteen is called Hunter Has A Friend, Too."

"Man..." the Smoker sighed.

"And this is chapter fifteen, probably called..." the Spitter paused.

"Awww... why do _we_ have to think of the name?" the Jockey whined.

"How about... Hunter Is The Best?" the Hunter offered.

"Screw that..." the Spitter dejected.

"Why don't we just name this chapter... Cheese Cake?" the Smoker suggested.

"Perfect!" the Spitter grinned. "Well, hope the readers enjoyed this chapter."


	16. The Rage Of The Author

**-xxxxxTYPOSxxxxx-**

"Hello," the Charger greeted. "I am here to talk to you today about a very inportant matter. The matter I would like to discuss is typos."

"Boo!" the Jockey yelled from the desks neatly aligned in the classroom.

"Quiet!" the Charger said sternly, poitning a metre stick at him. "Now throughout this story there has been a series of typos and such, I would like to go over them. Smoker!"

"Yes, ?" the Smoker sighed.

"I want you to read through the first chapter of this story and tell me if you found any typos," he commanded him.

The Smoker mumbled as he skimmed through the pages of the book on his desk, his eyes moving back and forth.

"Well, what are your findings?" the Charger questioned.

"No typos that I can see... just some pointless things, actually... the entire story is pointless," the Smoker reviewed.

"That's not the point!" the Charger snapped. "Okay, next chapter. Spitter, read chapter two."

The Spitter nodded and flipped through the book layed nicely on her desk. She stopped and ran her slender finger down the page. "Nothing."

"Witch, read the thrid chapter!" the Cahrger barked, throwing instructions at people left, right anf centre.

"Yeah, I got the short chapter!" the Witch cheered. She quickly read the story quietly to herself, her bloodied talon running along the words. "Nope, nothing. Wait a minute... why am I listening to-"

"Moving on," the Charger said, cutting off the Witch mid-sentence. The Witch rolled her eyes and rested her chin in her hand comfortably. "Hunter, read the fourth chapter,"

"Aye-aye, cap'n!" the Hunter saluted, searching through his own book for the fourth chapter. He stuck his tongue out in concentration and narrowed his eyes and everyone could hear teh gears in his mind turning. He smiled when he saw the bold print of "Chapter 4". "Well screw me, I ain't guna-"

"You don't have to read it out loud," the Charger sighed, pinching the bridge of his noce with his limp arm.

"Oh, of course," the Hunter grinned. He started reading in his mind, a look of deep concentration on his mouth. Only because his nose and eyes were drowned in the shadow of the hood of his sweater. "Well... at the very end is says "says Nick" where it should say "said Nick"."

"Okay, good, that's one point for Hunter," the Charger said, tallying a point under the Hunter's name.

"Boo yeah!" the Hunter boasted.

"Jockey, read the fifth chapter," the Charger instructed him.

"Alright..." the Jockey sighed, turning the pages of his book and stopping at the bolded font of "Chapter 5". He stood up and slapped his book off his desk abruptly. "Screw this, I ain't reading."

"Read!" the Charger yelled, slapping hios metre stick on the Boomer's desk and listening to it echo with a loud smack.

"What did I do?" the Boomer cried.

"You looked at me funny," the Charger said in an assuring voice that he didn't do anything _too_ wrong.

"I hate school," the Smoker mumbled, crossing his arms. "And isn't Spitter the one usually in charge?"

"No, because I'm the _Charge_r," the Charger told him in an explanitory voice.

"I got nothing..." the Spitter admitted.

"Well we knnow in "Road Trip!" the rest of the story got bolded for some reason... and no one knows why, not even the author..." the Hunter thought.

"Didn't it do that in some other chapter, too?" the Smoker asked.

"I don't know..." the Hunter shrugged.

"And in the same chapter it said something did something to the Witch when it should say the Witch did something to the Smoker," the Jockey added.

"I don't even know why the author did that..." the Charger sighed.

"Shut up, she's writing this story right now, she can make you do _anything_," the Boomer warned.

"Oh yeah, like wha-" suddenly the Charger was thrown at the Tank who caught him and looked at him in confusion.

"Charger come onto Tank?"

"Oh my god, you're right!" the Charger screamed, scrambling to be released from the Tank's grasp.

"She can make the Smoker go onto the Hunter and vice versa, Charger go onto Tank and vice versa, even the Spitter and the Smoker!" the Jockey yelled in fear. "And there is nowhere we can run!"

"Awww... she won't make me do anything, she loves me," the Hunter waved it off. The Hunter was pushed into the Smoker and their lips were being pushed together by some gravitational force.

"Yeah... she loves you," the Jockey rolled his eyes.

"I'm sorry, have mercy!" the Hunter wailed in fright. The Hunter ran away from the Smoker and scurried into a corner. "I don't want to die..."

"Oh, that's cold," the Jockey commented.

"Like I care," the Smoker muttered.

"It's the rage of the author!" the Spitter screamed.

"But she's really kind..." the Boomer whispered.

**-xxxxx-**

**I don't even know what that was... if it did that thing where it bolds a part of the story... I don't know why... it doesn't show that right now. So...**

**Uhhh... I look to finish this story soon. I'm not sure. But thanks for reading.**


	17. This Could Be Lethal

The Jockey poked at his finger nail and hummed thoughtfully, asking himself what to do. He sat in the middle of the street with small drops of rain drizzing on his balding head. He giggled. Sooner or later the stupid survivors would walk by and he qould jump them and then eat them. Eat them good! And damn, was he ever hungry. The Jockey laid on his back and spread his arms out. Sometimes he ever wondered if there were female Jockeys (AN: Jockies?). If there was that would so make his day. But there were only Spitters, Wicthes, and Boomettes. His best bet would probably be a Spitter but he would rather not go out with her or anything.

The Jockey sat up when the sounds of gun fire rang through his ears. He grinned.

"I'm all alone?" the little Infected heard the distinguishable voice of Nick mutter to himself.

"Perfect!" the Jockey cheered. He sprang to his feet and ran all the way to Nick.

"Jock-ah!" Nick yelled, but was interrupted mid sentence by the Jockey's mass jumping on his back, caught in a struggle to pry the Jockey's boney fingers from their grip on him. "Get it off!"

"Here's Johnny!" the Jockey mocked. He dug his fingers under Nick's arms and started tickling the conman. Nick fell into a fit of laughter and he stumbled to the ground. "S-stop! Stop it!"

"Say uncle!" the Jockey yelled at him. "Say it!"

"Never!" Nick laughed, fidgting and squirming under the Jockey. "Make it stop!"

"Say uncle!" the Jockey said, wrangling Nick.

"Uncle! Uncle!" Nick whined.

"Good boy!" the Jockey smiled. He quickly snatched Nick's guns, weapons, health kit and pain killers from his body (rape?) and threw them off to the side. He took out a red lease and clipped it on the middle aged man. "Now you're my bitch and you have to do everything I say. And since I have all your weapons, you can't kill me."

"... bitch," Nick mumbled.

The Jockey scractehd Nick's forehead. "I heard that!"

"Ow! When I get out of this leashe I'm going to-"

"I'll just tie you back up," the Jockey told him.

"I hate my life..."

"I hate your life too."

"Why was I ever even put in this game?"

**-xxxxx-**

"Where's the Jockey?" the Spitter wondered out loud.

"Half way up your-"

"Hey guys!" the Jockey greeted with a wave of his hand. "I brought a friend!"

"I'm not your friend!" Nick snapped.

"Whoa, score!" the Hunter grinned. "We get free food!"

"No, you're not allowed to eat him!" the Jockey informed everyone. "He's _my_ pet! Not our dinner!"

"You're boring!" the Hunter crossed his arms.

"I have to go with the Hunter on this one..." the Smoker nodded.

Nick pursed his lips and glared. He felt out of place, so terrified that any second someone wold take a munch out of some part of his body, and since the only part of him that was naked was his head and hands. He swallowed and cleared those thoughts from his mind. Jockey would protect him, right? Never did Nick think once he would have to rely on a Jockey, let alone anybody, to protect him. _Ever_. It sucked.

"How'd you get him anyways? Didn't those other survivors protect him?" the Charger inquired.

"He was alone," Jockey answered.

"Why were you all alone?" the Boomer asked tenderly, looking at Nick.

"Well..." Nick began.

***Flash Back***

"Okay, you guys, we have to stick with the-"

"Injured cute guy!" Rochelle barked. "I call dibs!" she ran over off to the left and out of sight in under 2 seconds flat.

"I said stick with the-"

"Oh my gawd, a bunny!" Ellis joyed. He ran over to a little white bunny which hopped off into the opposite direction that Rochelle had gone in.

"What the hell?"

"A candy store!" Coach sniffed. "It's like... heaven..." and suddenly Coach was gone.

"I'm all alone?" Nick asked himself when suddenly a Jockey jumped on him.

***End Flashback***

"That was fucking retarded," the Smoker cursed.

"You're telling me you stupid Smoker!" Nick sneered.

"Oh you bit-"

"People, people!" the Jockey intervened. "Let's settle our difference-"

Nick stood up and decked (LAWL) the Jockey in the face, making the Jockey fall ackwards because of his small frame and let go of the lease. Nick could feel the glaring eyes of the infected, especially the Hunter who had been so bent on eating him.

"I'm just going to... go..." Nick chuckled. He turned around and darted from the scene like... someone would run from... something bad? I don't know, you make the analogy.

"That bitch..." the Jockey groaned, sitting up and holding his nose.

"_Now_ can I eat him?" the Hunter smiled.

"Go for it..."

"Food!" the Hunter cheered, chasing after Nick in a frenzy.

"How did you even get him on the leash?" the Smoker cocked an eyebrow.

"I tickled him," the jockey nodded with a "I'm so awesome" look on his face (what a *****).

"Dude... tickling could e lethal in over 50 states and Canada! Including Alaska and Hawaii!" the Charger gasped.

"Dude!" the Jockey squeezed his nose. "Next time I see Nick, I'm going to tickle the shit out of him..."

"Good luck with that!"

**-xxxxx-**

"Shh... it's okay, Rochelle's with you now," Rochelle soothed, stroking the injured male's blonde hair.

"Help... me..." he whimpered.

**-xxxxx-**

**Sorry I haven't updated in forever, I have a severe case of writer's block ... D:**

**And if the story isn't as good as any of my others, then it's the writer's block's fault... so yeah!**

**Anyway, hope you enjoyed. n-n**

**And if it did that thing where half of the story is bolded, then it's not my fault... ._.**


	18. This Is The End

"This is the end... for realz..." the Spitter sighed.

"Lawlz, bad grammar!" the Jockey sneered, giggling like a little school girl, waving his hand at the Spitter.

"That coming from the guy who said "lawlz"," the Smoker frowned.

"What do you mean this is the end?" the Hunter whimpered, holding his hands up to his mouth.

"Yupp... this is final chapter of this story..." the Spitter looked down and closed her eyes in mourning. "Such fond memories..."

"As if..." the Charger rolled his eyes.

"Heh... your head is attached to your-"

"Let's not change the topic here!" the Charger interrupted the Jockey before he could finish his offensive sentence.

"Yeah... remember when I slapped you?" the Hunter sighed with a distant smile on his face.

"No..." the Charger replied, confused.

The Hunter grinned and hit the Charger across the face, making sure that his claws left a couple of marks to let everyone know who his bitch was. "Do you remember now?"

The Charger held his face where he hd left the marking and sniffed. "Yeah..."

"You guys! We need to say good bye to Yuki-AdiiChan-Lawliet's... or Addy's readers. Her penname is a mouthful..." the Spitter thought out loud.

"Well where do we look to say our good byes? I mean... there's no camera because this is text not audio video..." the Smoker asked.

"Just say good bye," the Spitter told him.

The Hunter held his arms out and gave a big hug to whoever's reading this. "Thanks for being such a loyal fan and reading all of this! We'll miss you and we wish you the best of life!" he sniffed as he let go as he wiped away an invisible tear.

"You don't really mean that, do you?" the Smoker glared.

"Nah, not really!" the Hunter smiled grandly. "Only the part where I appreciate them being so loyal to the story."

"It's not fair!" the Spitter pouted. "Smoker and Hunter never even got to kiss!"

The Smoker chuckled and shook his head. "You're amusing."

"I miss Bob!" the Boomer wailed, hlding his face in his hands.

"Now, now, leave that job to the Witch."

The Witch slowly walked by, covering her own face with her hands. She waved to the story readers and continued her huge, grand, exciting, escapade to where ever!

"Good bye loyal fans! Continue to read Addy's stories!" the Jockey waved. He gave a hug to the readers too.

"No, you idiot. They probably don't want you hugging them anyway!" the Hunter said, pulling the Jockey away.

"Yeah, I'm going," the Smoker stood up and turned around, waving at the viewrs... readers? "By-ah!"

"Piggy back!" the Hunter yelled as he leapt on his back.

"Ugh, get off me!" the Smoker snapped.

"Piggy back first!" the Hunter inisisted stubbornly.

"Whatever..." the Smoker grumbled, walking away with the Hunter screaming "Wheeee!" on his back with a fist flailing in the air. "Freedom!" they heard the Hunter shout.

"Well that gets rid of those two," the Spitter nodded, folding her kinny arms across her chest.

"I'm going to go get a piggy back from the Hunter while he gets a piggy back from the Smoker!" the Jockey jumped up and ran after them. "Bye all!"

"Tank!" the Tank shouted, running after the three. "Tank want piggy back!"

"Those poor, poor souls..." the Charger grieved. He touched the tender spots on his cheek where his tender, mild wounds were. "Anyway. It was... nice... being in this story..."

"Bye!" the Spitter waved.

"Bye bye! Thanks for reading!" the Boomer smiled. He, too, hugged the readers. "I hope you read other stories of Addy's that make aboslutely no sense what-so-ever!"

"Please come again!"

**-xxxxx-**

**... Errmm... YEEEEAH... HOPE YOU ENJOIED! Continue to read other Yuki-AdiiChan-Lawliet productions!**

**P.S. thanks for reading. **


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